


Paper and Parts

by LoveThemFiercely



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Anger Management, Aviation Museum, Background Relationships, But Not Our Two, Drunken Flirting, F/M, First Meetings, Folk Music, M/M, New Year's Eve, New Year's Fluff, New Year's Kiss, Origami, Party, PoeTaka, Potluck, Reylo - Freeform, Strawberries, They're Totally Sober Flirting, vintage planes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 06:59:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17198753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveThemFiercely/pseuds/LoveThemFiercely
Summary: Rey went to the New Years' party because she was invited.  That's what you do, right?  But she wasn't there for bright and loud and drunk and happy.  Well, maybe a little bit of happy.  Okay, a lot.  Somebody else was there for quiet and calm and a little bit happy.  Time to see how this unfolds.





	Paper and Parts

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes the best part of a party is just sitting and talking while it moves around you. Well, that and the potluck table. You could find, while hanging out on the quiet fringes of things, that you find something (or someone) you were not expecting.

The party swirled around behind her; a thrum of voices, the clink of glasses and silverware, and lights dimming and brightening as people passed in front of them moving around the house.  Rey was content to listen, and to see it out of the corner of her eye, without really being a part of it all; like being in the backseat of a car during a rainstorm. She’d loaded up her plate with all of the good things on offer.  There were so many things to try...and she wanted to taste them _all_.  She’d brought the strawberries herself; huge and ripe and red, even though she knew they were out of season.  They must have come from somewhere warm.

 

Rey had headed for the living room; all the music and lively conversation were in the den, and the kitchen, and even perched on some of the stairs.  Here there was a log busily falling into coals in the fireplace, and a set of plush, comfortable brown furniture with lots of soft cushions, and the muted sounds of celebration.  Here there was a steaming cup of tea, and a plate full of wonderful things meant to be eaten with your hands. She concentrated on getting the plate and the tea and herself situated, kicked off her shoes, picked up a strawberry, and curled up her feet beneath her as she bit into it with an appreciative noise.

 

There was a gruff noise, sort of halfway between a chuckle and someone clearing their throat; holy hell!  Rey dropped the strawberry square in her lap; fortunately missing her soft sparkly-gold sweater and landing on the black leggings instead.  Between making sure she didn’t trip on the steps down to the living room and managing her admittedly, possibly, slightly overloaded plate, she’d completely failed to notice that there was already someone in the room.  How, she had no idea; he certainly did draw the eye.

 

Her eyes started with the booted feet propped on an ottoman, noted the tray he held on his lap, traveled past the black jeans and soft-looking black-and-grey plaid flannel shirt (okay, maybe traveled slowly, she was only human), and landed on his face.  It was an appealing face; long, pale, with a few beauty marks to add interest, a generous mouth drawn up just the tiniest bit at the corner, and the whole was framed by long dark hair. A pair of brown eyes caught the light from the lamp on the table next to him until they were almost sepia-toned, like vintage film; just now they were giving her a quizzical look, as she’d utterly forgotten to pick the strawberry up off her lap.

 

Rey dropped her own eyes in a hurry, deposited the offending fruit back on her plate, and used one of the stack of napkins she’d grabbed to soak up any juice it had left. A soft crinkle had her looking back at him, though; what was he doing?  Plate full of tempting things forgotten for the moment, Rey was frankly staring now; which was made less embarrassing by the fact that he was no longer looking at her. Large, capable-looking, long-fingered hands (well, hello, how had she missed those?) were working with something atop the tray.   _That_ was the source of the crinkling noise; it was paper.  

 

Rey reached over without looking to snag her cup of tea, breathing in the fragrant steam as she watched.  It was chai, spicy and sweet and bitter, perfect for a December day at the end of the old year. She’d been delighted to see Dopheld making it in his kitchen; and properly, too, in a pot on the stove. She hummed in contentment as she took a sip. His eyes flicked up at her, then back down to the paper in his hands.   Whatever he was making, it was a complicated, involved process. He used a ruler here and there as he folded the bits of paper sort of into each other. It was origami! Rey was fascinated. Remembering her plate, she settled it on her lap and tucked in while she watched him work; no reason she couldn’t enjoy two things at once.

 

Something was beginning to take shape, gradually, as Rey watched and made her way through her food: it had four legs, and a tail; he was putting stripes on the tail, and a little black mask…”It’s a raccoon!”  That had been louder than she’d intended; she could feel herself flush, probably the same color as that damn strawberry. The quirk at the side of his mouth was definitely a thing, a smile sort of thing. “That’s amazing.   How did you learn to do that? What made you want to learn? What else can you make?” Oh. That was far too many questions at once. He’d obviously come here to sit by himself in peace, just like she thought she had; and here she was asking all sorts of questions and flinging food about like a madwoman.

 

“That...is kind of a long story.”  Oh, the _voice_ was just as attractive as the rest of him, deep and soft.  He stopped, with a tiny shake of his head and a rueful expression.  “No, it’s not. It’s a short and uncomfortable one, but that’s no reason to say otherwise.”  He looked across at her, his eyes direct and a very faint flush of his own creeping across his cheekbones.  “I learned it in anger management therapy. Yes, it was court-ordered. Yes, I finished it. And yes, I completely deserved to go.”  His hands had kept working while he talked, except when he stopped to look at her; and a few twists of paper later, red this time, the raccoon was holding a tiny, red... _strawberry_.  

 

…

 

Ben put the little red strawberry, really just a tiny triangle of red paper with the barest threads of green on the top, between the raccoon’s paws.  He was taking a gamble here; not everyone shared his sense of humor. This could go anywhere from she’d have no idea what he meant, to she’d think he was a complete ass.  He couldn’t resist, though, after he saw her plate; it was like she was hoarding for the winter, and it was adorable. He’d never seen anyone enjoy their food and drink like she was, savoring the smells and tastes and textures.  She hadn’t even noticed he was in the room; that was new for him. _Quiet_ was new for him, still.  

 

He’d noticed her, though, from the hair piled atop her head in a trio of messy knots, to the gold sweater that warmed her skin, to the green eyes threaded with brown; the same color as the paper he’d chosen for the strawberry leaves.  Her hands were covered in tiny scars, and they looked strong, like she worked with them every day. She looked at the raccoon and its miniature snack for a couple of beats; then her nose crinkled and she started laughing. He could feel his shoulders relax.  It was a warm, open laugh that made him feel like he was standing outside in the sunshine.

 

She held up both her hands.  “Okay okay, that’s fair. I did sort of sneak away with a good bit of the potluck table.  And I do love strawberries. Origami for therapy, huh? That’s brilliant. I think owning whatever issues you have and trying to do something about them is...brave.  And you finished what you were ordered to do, but you’re still doing this. ” She smiled at him. “I’m Rey. Obviously you got really good at it.” She lifted an eyebrow at him, still smiling, but with a little sass in it.  “How long were you _in_ therapy?”  A couple of dimples made an appearance.

 

He snorted.  He couldn’t help it.  Oh, he liked her already.  “Touché.  I’m Ben.  I sort of started at the end, origami-wise.  My teacher was trying to get me to make swans, and butterflies, and cranes; the usual basics.  She said it would occupy my mind, and put my hands to better use than...more destructive alternatives, like getting in fights.  I had something more specific in mind, though.” He chose red paper again; but this time marbled with black and gold. Ben always kept a supply of this particular paper on hand.  His hands moved automatically to begin the folds for the shape; it was the first one he’d learned. _Not for beginners_ , the book had said; but he hadn’t _felt_ like a swan, or a crane, and he certainly wasn’t anything like a butterfly.

 

So he’d kept going, and practicing, and failing at this one shape over and over, and by the time he’d finally figured it out he could have folded one in the dark with his hands behind his back.  He stopped to drink some of his coffee; he should probably do that before it was completely cold. Rey was watching while he worked. Normally, he’d’ve preferred to just show the finished product when he was done, but he found that it didn’t bother him at all.  Legs and neck and long tail spooled out from the body in the middle; he had to remember to leave some spaces along the back, though, for the tricky part, the…

 

...

 

“Wings!  Is that a _dragon?!_ ”  Oh, that was loud again.  She couldn’t help it; it was just so satisfying when she figured out what he was making.  “Wait, that’s the first thing you learned to make? You _did_ come at this backwards, didn’t you?”  She was captivated as he put the finishing touches on the beast; wings, even a little gout of flame made of a few twists of orange paper.  And there it was, looking fierce and sinuous and alive. She clapped her hands in delight. “That’s marvelous. What else can you make? Can you show me?”  She waved at the dragon, which he’d set on the table next to him. “Well, not THAT. I doubt very much that I can learn how to make one of those in a single evening.  That is...if it’s not too much trouble?”

 

He didn’t answer.  Rey thought maybe she’d made a thorough pest out of herself; until he started gathering up the tray and ruler, a bag next to his chair, and his coffee cup, and relocated the entire affair to the couch where she was sitting.  She hastily set her plate and cup back down on the end table so she could take the coffee cup from him; he smiled his thanks and sat down next to her, replacing the tray and its contents on his lap. She was even more aware of him up close; the brush of his shoulder against hers as he sat, the warmth of him that she could feel even from a few inches away, and a pleasant scent she couldn’t identify; woodsmoke, maybe, and something like pine.

 

He reached into the bag and brought out several squares of sunny yellow paper and a book.  Oh. She’d been hoping Ben would show her himself; that was disappointing. “This is so you can follow along,” he said, opening the book and setting it on her lap.  “Can you move closer to me? We have to share the tray, sorry.” Oh, no, that would be just _terrible_ , what a shame.

 

Rey didn’t waste any time scooching over next to him, the line of their hips and legs now pressed together as she leaned over the tray.  He showed her the basics, the movements of his hands impossibly delicate as he manipulated each fold; then demonstrated the steps to form a paper crane.  He made three of them; simple, but looking as though they might take off any minute.

 

“Got it?  Go ahead, you try.”  Rey started clumsily trying to imitate what he’d done. Restoring engine parts at the aviation museum, for the vintage planes that Poe flew, hadn’t exactly prepared her for this.  She was increasingly glad, though, that he’d insisted she come to the party. He’d even turned the puppy-dog eyes on her; now that he and Dopheld were a couple, he thought everyone needed to find true love.  She smiled. They were wonderful together. Dopheld loved history for the glimpses into the daily lives of soldiers and pilots far from home, and his quiet sentiment was the perfect foil for Poe’s bright sizzle.

 

Ben had started working on something else while she struggled with the crane; Rey was pretty sure she’d followed all the steps just like he’d shown her, though a great deal slower in her case.  The end result, however, was something that bore an unfortunate resemblance to a bathtub with stubby triangular growths. There was a stifled noise beside her that wasn’t quite a chuckle; she couldn’t blame him.  Meanwhile, he’d produced...a creditable replica of a Lockheed P-38 Lightning. She could tell what model of aircraft it was; which was a little disheartening, given that an innocent bystander would probably have a difficult time identifying the species of this poor bird.

 

“Oh, that’s not fair!  How did you manage to make a recognizable P-38?”  She looked down at the portly, completely not aerodynamic avian in her hands and sighed, before turning back to him.  There was at least half a sideways smile now, and a very fine one at that. Ben shrugged. “Practice,” he said, taking the almost certainly flightless crane carefully from the tray and setting it next to his own far more graceful creations.  “It’s only your first try. You should have seen my first dragon; it looked sort of like a melting pig.” He passed her a few more squares of yellow paper. “Don’t worry; just try again.”

 

She laughed; that was quite an image.  “Wait, how do you _know_ how to make a P-38 Lightning?  I haven’t seen you at the museum; sorry, I mean the aviation museum, where I work.” Rey looked down at the tray and started the first fold.  Ben’s hands were already busy with the next piece. She wasn’t sure what it would be, but it was mostly gray. Okay. If she could restore the electrical conduit for the ball turret of a B-17, surely she could fold a damn crane.

 

He answered without looking up from the paper in his hands.  “Well, I work for the aviation museum too; it’s just field work, most of the time, so I’m hardly ever there.  I guess I’m a...remote employee? I’m the aviation archaeologist.” The piece he was folding seemed to have two legs, and an upright body; something human, this time?  Meanwhile, her crane was coming along; the wings looked more like wings this time and less like truncated horns.

 

Then she realized what he’d said.  “Wait, so _you’re_ the one who found that rheostat?  Where on earth...never mind. Trade secret, probably.  Thanks for finding that.” Her mind drifted back to orientation.  If she remembered right, they’d said the aviation archeologist for this museum was also...oh shit.  “You’re the owner’s son?!” Rey backpedaled, mentally, trying to remember whether she’d said anything rude.  She needed this job; and it was, honestly, the best place she’d ever worked, with maybe some real friends.

 

He looked pained.  “I imagine she’d prefer we not mention that almost as much as I would,” he said.  “I haven’t done a stellar job with the family reputation.” He cocked an eyebrow at her, looking up from the figure on the tray.  “So you’re the one who sent me looking for that, then? It wasn’t easy; but I like a challenge. Why did you put in the request? It’s not like anybody’s doing high-altitude flying for the museum, so a heated clothing rheostat isn’t really a vital piece of equipment.”  He sounded puzzled, but interested in the answer.

 

Which meant Rey had to think about the answer.  “It was...let me think. It was the last piece missing from that particular plane.  It was a part of the plane, of its life, when it was flying; and I thought it should have one again, for completeness.  I thought...if we were going to bring that plane to life again, it shouldn’t start its new life missing pieces of itself.”  He was going to think she was silly, or stupid. “And I thought somewhere, there must be a piece like that one; a part that used to be useful and yes, vital.  That it was waiting, somewhere, to be back where it belonged.” Yep. Anthropomorphizing the feelings of aircraft parts. She was back to sounding like a loon.

 

He wasn’t looking at her like she was out of her mind, though; in fact, he wasn’t looking at her at all.  He was studiously looking down at his hands; but there was a tremor in his jaw and chin, a twist of his mouth, indicating some emotion that Rey couldn’t identify.  She ducked her own head to concentrate on the crane and let him handle whatever it was he was feeling.

 

…  

 

His voice was a little rougher, when he spoke.  “Missing pieces and wanting to be back where you belong...I don’t know many people who think about planes like that.”  He smiled at her. “I like it, though.” His eyes traveled from her mouth to her eyes and back again, and then dropped to the paper bird in her hand.  There was a kind of muffled sound through his nose and his mouth twisted again. “Um.” What? She turned the crane around in her hand. Tail, wings, folded paper body...the bird had no head.  “How did you even…” A variety of strange noises were produced as he tried heroically to suppress his laughter. Rey stared at the decapitated avian. She had no idea how she’d managed to do that; but a moment later he lost the fight and started cracking up, and so did she.  

 

After a couple of minutes, they were both wiping tears from their cheeks and she’d dropped the book.  “Okay. Maybe you’re a, um, non-traditional student too. Let’s try something else.” There was still a gleam of humor in his eyes.  He reached for some more paper in the bag just as Rey bent down to retrieve the book; there was an audible thump as they collided.

 

“Ow.”  Rey clapped a hand to the side of her head.  It had been a solid hit. What she was thinking about, though, is how his stubble had felt as it slid along her cheek, and how surprisingly soft his hair was.  Oh, boy. She was entertaining notions now. “Sorry. Are you all right?”

 

He rubbed a hand thoughtfully over his cheekbone.  “I haven’t decided yet. That was pretty good. Have you thought about headbutting people professionally?  Like, as a career?” His voice was teasing, and he stopped and held up his hands, as though to shield himself, before he went back to get the paper.  

 

“Oh, very funny.  I’m having some trouble imagining a profession in which that would be an asset; but maybe that’s just the head injury.”  She waved the book at him. “I’m pretty sure I won, though.”

 

Ben handed her several squares of red paper, and some dark green, sort of mottled with brown.  “Oh, no question. It was sort of inevitable.” he folded a square of the red and a few twists of the green together and went back to the gray figure he’d made, adding the new, two-dimensional strawberry to the front of its...shield!

 

“It’s a knight!”  He was putting the knight, complete with sword and new strawberry-based heraldry, in front of the dragon he’d made.

 

He nodded, and grinned at her.  “And thus am I slain.” He swooned dramatically, the back of his hand pressed against his face, and peered at her through his fingers.

 

She punched him lightly in the arm, wearing her best stern face, spoiled slightly by the giggle she couldn’t contain.  “Well, get over it. I WILL make something recognizable before the New Year. So I’ll need your help.” Rey put her hand on his arm.  Oh, that was, mmm-hmmm, as nice as visually promised. “Please?”

 

Ben glanced at the clock and took the book from her hands.  “Okay. We’re going to skip the basics; you _might_ just be as stubborn as I am.  So we’ll try some incentive.” He turned the pages until he’d found what he wanted.  “How about this? You can’t eat it; but can you make it look like you should?” He tapped his finger on the page.  It was a strawberry.

 

He had no idea how stubborn she could be.  “Oh, that’s more like it! Erm. Now what do I do?” Ben laughed, and made one to demonstrate.  “Now you try.”

 

…

 

Oh, she could be dangerous, this one.  Stubborn, funny, she was oddly, touchingly passionate about aircraft accessories, and just all kinds of beautiful.  Ben was starting to feel like he might want to stay here, home, for more than just a holiday once in a while; instead of just heading right back out on the road.  He hadn’t felt like he belonged at home in a long time; since he started getting in trouble, really. There had been a few things he’d missed. He smiled, and reached back down into the bag for more paper.  He was going to need all the blue, and most of the green. Rey was frowning at the red paper in her hands, brow furrowed in concentration. It was shockingly endearing.

 

They worked in companionable silence.  She wrestled with the paper as though she were seeking vengeance on it for some terrible crime.  Strangely, though, this one appeared to to be turning out better than the birds. Ben let his memory guide him as he creased blue paper and pressed it into delicate, airy shapes.  He’d figured out this design himself, one day; when he was discouraged and homesick. Adding them together would be a new twist, though. He hoped it would be well received, as he added lengths of the green.

 

A crow of triumph startled him as he finished the last fold.   “I did it!” She turned toward him, face alight. “Look!” She had indeed.  Parked in her palm was a completely edible-looking strawberry, topped with green leaves.  Her face fell a little. “How do you make the seeds?” Ben reached back into the bag and came out with a black marker.   Rey laughed and took it from him. “Isn’t that cheating?” She glanced at him as she uncapped it and began determinedly dotting the strawberry with little black seeds, tongue caught between her teeth.

 

“I won’t tell if you won’t.”  Somewhere behind them Poe was singing.  Even drunk enough to make some of the words a little blurry, he had a fine voice.  Mom said she’d’ve almost hired him for that alone. It was one of those folk songs he liked so much; somebody had produced a guitar.   Music. Almost midnight; not quite. No time like the present, he thought.

 

Ben shifted the tray over to the side and stood.  Rey tilted her head up to him with an inquiring smile.  He extended his hand to her, formally; the other was behind his back.  “May I have this dance?” He hoped he didn’t look like too much of an idiot; it was a weirdly old-fashioned thing to say, and he’d always been awkward as hell.

 

She capped the marker, got up from the couch, and swept into a formal bow, to his great delight.  “Of course!” She grinned impishly at him. “You can even wear my favor, sir.” She tucked the strawberry carefully into the breast pocket of his shirt.  

 

Perfect.  He brought his other hand out from behind his back and showed her the flower-crown of paper bluebells.  “Well, then, in return, if I may…?” She stared at it for a few beats, lips parted, then blinked at him and ducked her head.  He placed the crown carefully atop the careless knots of hair that seemed to suit her so well, and took her hand.

 

They danced, just themselves, in the living room; they could just hear a few of the lyrics as Poe sang in the kitchen.  

 

“ _We’ll deny the cold of winter_

_We’ll have only song and cheer_

_As we gather here together_

_In the threshold of the year_ …”

 

Ben reached over and turned off the lamp; the reflected light from the other rooms was enough, and the firelight from the hearth outlined her profile as they turned in place, a brush of gold along her skin.

 

“ _Here we tied the knot as lovers_

_Here we raised the toast as friends_

_Here we pass along from hand to hand_

_In a dance that never ends_

_We’ll forget about tomorrow_

_We’re protected from it here_

_As we drink our fill together_

_From the tankard of the year_ …”

 

He leaned down and hesitated, his face a few inches from Rey’s; at the look in her eyes, he completed the movement and touched his lips to hers.  He’d meant to make it a brush, just a kind of question; but he had his answer in her response, and they both drank their fill. The music stopped, but they kept dancing, slowly, until they reluctantly separated to breathe and look at one another.  She drew in a breath; Ben wondered what she’d say, wanting it desperately to be something good, something hopeful.

 

“Motor oil!”  That...was not on the long list of things he might have expected.

 

“Um...what?”  All he’d been drinking was coffee; reducing his impulse control was rarely a good idea.  Maybe she’d headbutted him harder than he thought. But she was blushing; enough that he could see it by firelight.

 

“Sorry.  Your eyes are exactly the same color as engine oil.  I’ve been trying to figure that out all night. You must think I’ve lost my mind.”  She shook her head.

 

“No, you just caught me by surprise.  Thanks, I guess?” Wait, she’d been looking at his eyes all night?  That had to be good, didn’t it?

 

She huffed impatiently at him.  “I LIKE engine oil. It’s...important.  Nothing in my life works without it.” She put a hand up to her mouth, like she hadn’t thought about how that sounded until she’d said it; then lowered it, shrugged, and laid her head against his shoulder as they kept dancing to nothing at all.

 

Ben laughed; he liked the implications of that very much.   Off in the kitchen he heard Poe say “You’re really cute; I wanna ask you out.  Will you kiss me at midnight?”; which was followed by Dopheld’s affectionate response.  “I’m already your boyfriend, dumbass; of course I will.” That made them both belly-laugh.  

 

Ben smiled down at Rey, when they sobered a little.  “He’s going to be unhappy in the morning. But he has a good point.  I started a little early; wasn’t I supposed to kiss you at midnight, like in all the movies?”   Somebody yelled _TEN_!  Oh, the countdown was starting.

 

Rey grabbed him by the back of the head and pulled his face down to meet hers.  “You’d better.” It was going to be a very good year.

**Author's Note:**

> The song featured here is "A Dram to Warm the Piper" by Danny Carnahan, from his album Journeys of the Heart with Robin Petrie. It is a well-beloved New Years' staple in my house and is sung each and every year (usually in the car). It is, in my opinion, one of the finest New Years' songs out there. Someone in my house usually also eats all the strawberries. 
> 
> All of the origami featured here can, in fact, be made; except the P-38 Lightning. That's all Ben, I have no idea how he did it. Aviation museums are wonderful places; occasionally they hold events that really do give us a look at the everyday lives of pilots and other service members in those days, far away and dreaming of home. All research here, including aviation archaeologists, heated clothing rheostats, making chai, and advanced origami techniques, is mine, as are any mistakes.


End file.
